She had certainly not been invited.
"Freezing my ditties off up here."
Adelina glanced up from the pile of sheet music, carefully weighed down with her heeled shoe to prevent papers from scattering with the slightest gust. The chantry's bell chamber turned workshop was highly prone to gusts. It was little more than a wooden platform at the top of the tower, encircled by eight shuttered archways nearly twice as tall as a person. Even closed, the wooden slats did little to keep breezes out and Sera had flung open three so that she could walk out onto the peaked roof of the church and survey the town. She liked to squish the distant figures bustling in the square between her thumb and index finger-particularly those she disliked.
"Got you now you bleedin' ninny." Sera cackled, forgetting her frozen breasts in a fit of malicious glee.
"I'm not giving you my shawl, you know its getting colder and you still never come prepared." Adelina informed her before going back to work.
"Be stingy if you like."
That was a tone that bode ill. It said that Sera was already halfway through devising a prank. Probably something with jam. Shooting a panicked look at the cello propped up against the wall-she had only just gotten it clean after the last time-Adelina sighed and heaved herself up. Her arm jostled the chipped little teapot at her side and it threatened to spill lukewarm earl grey all over the pages still wet with ink. Luckily she caught it in time and moved it further away for good measure.
"Bring me one of them, you know, sone...sconce...fancy biscuits while you're at it." Sera added.
Adelina grabbed a lemon scone from the plate and then paused, "Wait...to eat or to throw?"
Silence was her answer and she set the pastry back down with a sigh and climbed out onto the stone ledge jutting from the open arch. The stonework was chilly against her bare feet and her toes were already slightly numb from the wind nipping up her skirt but the ledge was half the width of her foot and heels made the process tricky.
It was a lucky thing that heights did not frighten her, otherwise the prank Sera used years ago to lure her out onto the roof for the first time would have resulted in several ruined instruments instead of several slightly water damaged instruments (it had been raining, which made the decision to be insane more rapid than it normally would have been). But it was a long time now that pranks were unnecessary, although that did not discourage Sera. The view of Ostwick at dawn while the bells rang bronze reverberations through the chantry stone was enough incentive to endure cold toes.
It was a good roof for climbing, the tiles didn't slip and the masonry wasn't prone to crumbling treacherously beneath feet. A wide, flat strip bisected the sharp gabled roof only a foot below the ledge. She hopped down with practice more than care and walked along to where Sera perched-at the very end where plaster gave way to sky.
"You're golden" Sera took the shawl from her and cocooned herself up against the wind with the plaid weave. It wasn't pretty or fashionable but it was warm and as much as Adelina loved her makeshift workshop for the relative solitude it afforded; cold, clumsy fingers were a significant drawback.
"How about you leave off that stupid symphony or whatever it is you're writing and let me take a crack at them?"
Adelina snorted, making her way back across the roof to the belfry, "Not for all the jam in Ostwick." she called over her shoulder.
The three bells were housed in a wooden lattice nestled up in the spire of the belfry, almost twenty feet above the wooden floor of the bell chamber. A complex pulley system allowed them to be lowered for monthly cleanings but now they remained suspended above her, massive clappers muffled against the bronze rims. Sera was mad to ring them, she had gotten it into her head that it would be interesting to do so by striking the cavernous undersides with a mallet. No amount of dissuading could convince her that it would not be "a laugh" to go deaf by doing so.
"I bet they're easier to steal than horses. No shite to clean up after either."
Pausing, she turned around to see what Sera could be possibly be talking about. Not the bells certainly...hopefully. And then she saw them-tiny metal forms gleamed in the distance, kicking up dust from the road. Motorcars, she realized.
"Looks like they're heading for your place."
They were indeed.
"Shit." Adelina cursed.
"My darling, I was beside myself with worry." her mother was glaring daggers over the floral filigree of her porcelain cup. The china rattled loudly when she set her teacup and saucer down to stand and formally introduce her wayward daughter to the five strangers in the sitting room.
Well, not strangers-relatives, distant ones. Although Adelina was not sure which was worse under the circumstances.
Only one extended his hand for her to take and as she tipped her head down, she caught a flash of an unruly smile and dark eyes filled with amusement. The man winked at her discreetly before bowing his head down over their hands in return. When he released her glove, the smile was gone but his amusement remained.
He turned to her mother, "Lady Trevelyan, as pleased as I am to finally see your daughter again, I find I am entirely distracted by your excellent tea service. Truly, I've not seen its equal in Minrathous."
Errant daughter forgotten, she turned to their guest and favored him with the full brunt of her delight, "My dear Dorian, you are too kind but I'm sure nothing can compare to the wonders of the mysterious Imperium."
Slipping down onto the end of the settee, jostling her sister Flora in the process, Adelina surreptitiously examined the other guests. Four gentlemen in all, and two ladies. One man bore a strong resemblance to Dorian-his father perhaps, or a much older brother. The women were turned out in a strange fashion that, while unfamiliar, still provoked envious glances from her sisters. None, except Dorian seemed at all pleased to be there.
Adelina thought he must be the only single man in the group by the predatory glint in her mother's eye. Trevelyan men had a fondness for hunting and her mother put them all to shame. The woman possessed the keen senses of a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out wealthy men of status and she did not need shotguns to capture her unwitting prey. Unfortunately, her talents were by and large wasted in Ostwick, where eligible bachelors were currently in short supply.
"Tell me, do you care for music?" she asked Dorian.
Before he could have the opportunity to answer, she nodded towards Flora, "My daughter Floralina sings beautifully."
Dorian inclined his head and smiled, perfect parts boyish charm and roguish appeal. It left Adelina with the distinct impression that only someone well versed in the arts of scheming matrons could produce a smile so calculated to charm one. In fact, it seemed like he was playing her mother more than she was playing him. No unwitting prey, this one.
"I think I can speak for my entire party when I say we would be delighted to witness such musical talent."
One of the women did not bother to hide her grimace as she rubbed a finger along the rim of her untouched teacup and then examined the intricate lace for grime. It was a motion that reminded Adelina of their housekeeper-a woman hellbent on eradicating all manner of dirt. Poor Mrs. Rutger would be horrified to see distrust in her skills from a guest.
Flora flushed prettily and turned to her, "Lena, would you play?"
In truth, she was not a very talented pianist. While technically proficient, she lacked real skill with musical instruments-and she had tried her hand at more than a few. There was always a missing element in her playing, a gap between what she wanted to hear and what her fingers could produce. But she was, if anything, an accurate player, and that was all that mattered when it came to an accompanist.
The rest of her sisters had inherited their mother's voice and never bothered to develop beyond basic proficiency on the piano. So it was alarming when their mother interjected again, "No, I think Coralina would love to accompany you instead."
Adelina was never partial to her mother's naming scheme but it was all the more ridiculous when she insisted on using everyone's full names when they were all together.
Meanwhile, Cora looked mortified, "I would much rather sing. Can't Lena play?"
"No, I think Adelina looks rather peaked. Let your dear sister catch her breath."
It was a tone that brooked no argument, not that they could protest any longer under the steely scrutiny of their guests. Adelina wondered if they were all distant cousins of her father, or only just a few of them. She hoped for the later, especially regarding the woman with the teacup.
Cora and Flora primly set their cups into delicate saucers and made their way over to the piano with all the enthusiasm of men marching towards the executioner. They rifled through the sheet music, attempted to prolong the inevitable while simultaneously searching out the simplest piece to perform. In a bid to divert attention from her increasingly flustered sisters, Adelina turned towards Dorian, who had moved to stand close to her.
"Do you play yourself?" she asked.
He smiled, looking very handsome while he did so, "I thank you for your consideration in asking, but my abilities as a musician flourish best without public display. Which is to say that I am dreadful."
"I'm sure you are being too modest." her mother interjected.
"Not at all Lady Trevelyan, I could refer you to several frustrated instructors if you doubt my sincerity."
Trapped into a corner with no flattering alternative, the woman merely smiled and deferred her attention to the woman seated closest to her. It was not received warmly.
"You've grown quite a bit since we last met." Dorian addressed Adelina, dropping his voice so that his words would not be heard by anyone beyond them. A part of her instructed that such a thing should leave her breathless and thrilling. Handsome men addressing her in (relative) privacy was not something that occurred on a regular basis. But despite the trappings of romance, his voice did not seem to hold any actual romantic intentions. All the better, really.
"Babies often do. It would be very strange if I had not." she replied, conspiratorially matching his volume.
He seemed delighted, "Ah yes, but you were a strange baby, from what I can recall."
Against her skirt, her left hand burned but she was still smiling, "Yes, from what I hear, I was frightfully red."
He laughed too loudly and drew the eyes of the entire room. By the piano, her sisters stopped shuffling through papers, terrified expressions as if he had caught them out in their much prolonged stalling.
Smothering her laugh, Adelina settled for a smirk in his direction and stood, "I believe I am feeling much recovered, perhaps a duet is in order."
Before her mother could insist that she still looked dreadfully flush, Dorian voiced his enthusiasm for the idea and then there was nothing her mother could say. It was a shame it had taken so long to stumble upon her mother's weakness. Perhaps the next few weeks would not be as terrible as she expected.